The last time I wrote about Manchester City's chief executive, Garry Cook, in this space, I received four death threats in one day, as a clutch of non-representative City fans implied my failure to conclude Garry had played a blinder over the Kaká business was grounds for murder – an action I assume they'd have justified under section three of the Homicide Act, which relates to provocation. (Having said that, judging by some of the spelling they might have had a case for diminished responsibility.)

Whether supporters of City or indeed any other side still regard lethal force as a reasonable response to criticism of one of their club suits I shan't bother to hazard, preferring not to spoil the surprise of my Christmas Eve emailbag. But in any case, I have to declare something of a Christmas miracle: Garry Cook is growing on me.

In part it's a gaiety-of-the-nation thing. But this is, after all, the time of year at which we traditionally display a weakness for comedy bad guys, and following blanket critical notices for his hilarious performance at that Eastlands press conference on Monday, at which he unveiled the new manager, Roberto Mancini, there is no reason why Garry should not line up alongside your King Rats and your Captain Hooks.

Sitting next to Mancini, he had mastered the "bulldog chewing a wasp" face which is the stock in trade of the scuppered pantomime villain, and which is currently being deployed twice daily by national treasures from Brian Blessed (Abanazar, Wimbledon) to Nigel Havers (Fleshcreep, Nottingham). The only disappointment is that City have yet to bus in small children to throw sweets at Garry. That might be a part of "the project" to kickstart in the new year.

Certainly, the City CEO's schemes and subterfuges have proved marginally easier to foil than those dreamt up by the likes of the Wicked Queen, but then again she only has a naïve stepdaughter to deal with, whereas Garry's opponents range from the "bottlers" of Milan to those who questioned the sort of chap who would welcome City legend Uwe Rösler to "the Manchester United Hall of Fame"; and now to those who refuse to believe his handing of the poisoned apple to Mark Hughes was not premeditated.

On Monday, our hapless antihero insisted to the assembled throng that there had been absolutely "no conspiracy" – and those who prefer to reserve the term for things such as Watergate might well agree. Alas, Mancini's amusing decision to undermine his new chief executive's account about 27 seconds later has left people decrying Garry's "covert operation", as though it were akin to the Bay of Pigs, as opposed to lining up the Italian and telling him to enjoy the complimentary shortbread in Manchester's Lowry Hotel until the coast was clear.

This is clearly unfortunate, as is indeed is the extrapolation that the Abu Dhabi royal family have embarrassed their nation before the entire world with their treatment of Mark Hughes. (I'm sure they're crying into their diamond oil wells, my ducks.)

Yet side issues aside, is it not time to float the theory that the mildish-mannered Cook is himself a conspiracy? On his previous outing in this column, I note I described him as having cultivated the air of the type of affectless sports executives grown in Petri dishes in Nike's Oregon labs. Clearly, that was wrong, and I subsequently began suspecting that he had been built by former Soviet scientists in the pay of Roman Abramovich with the specific aim of making Peter Kenyon look appealing.

But in retrospect, Cook is more sophisticated than that, for all his studied ineptitude. He is a lightning rod. Just as managers like José Mourinho and Alex Ferguson are happy to draw attention to themselves to protect their players, surely Garry is a prototype for a new breed of chief executive, whose bi-monthly, stagey pratfalls will contrive to divert the pressure not simply from players, but from managers too.

It already seemed to be working on Monday, with many reporters filing copy in which the new City coach was described as "smooth", "stylish" and "elegantly attired" (indicating that the Italian's arrival will provide many members of Her Majesty's Press with the romance that has been missing in their lives since Mourinho broke their hearts).

Indeed, considered as a state-of-the-art decoy, Cook may yet be one of the most self-sacrificingly sophisticated executives yet to grace the game – and were I City's real bosses, I would insist he were wheeled out for every press conference from now until he is wanted for the summer season in Bridlington.